


2 Dorks, 1 Tub

by P2PWP



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bathtubs, F/M, mostly shippy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P2PWP/pseuds/P2PWP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose typically took care to make sure the bathroom was available on days she itched for a bubble bath, but today she had simply had an urge. An urge that had led her to open the door to the bathroom, errant bottles of soap and lotion balancing precariously about in her crooked arm, to find one John Egbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For several long, long minutes, the sound of pouring water was the only thing to break the silence between them.

The bathroom wasn’t exactly prime Standing Around Like An Awkward Idiot territory, Rose noted. Maybe she shouldn’t have already taken off her shoes- the tile was a bit chilly. She rested her weight on her heels, stretched her arms once, twice, and darted a quick look at John. He seemed to be almost melting into the space between the toilet and the sink, hunching his shoulders as if trying to make himself smaller.

It was a little funny, she had to admit, but she couldn’t help but feel slightly bad—this whole situation was mostly her fault, after all. Rose typically took care to make sure the “big” bathroom was available on days she itched for a bubble bath, but today she had simply had an urge. An urge that had led her to open the door to the bathroom, errant bottles of soap and lotion balancing precariously about in her crooked arm, to find one John Egbert.

One John Egbert, she mentally annotated, in the process of removing his shirt.

"Oh," she had said.

"Oh," he said. Then: "Oh, crap, were you about to use the bathroom?"

"That  _was_ the plan.” But that had come out a little meaner than she had intended, so she quickly produced an amendment: “But I mean, it’s alright, I’m not in a rush.”

"No, no, it’s okay, I’m not rushing either! You can…" He had suddenly began wriggling in his half-shed shirt, reversing its path and replacing it on his shoulders. "You can go ahead!"

"You shouldn’t have to give up such a coveted spot to me, you  _were_  here first.”

"It’s alright Rose, I seriously don’t mind at all!"

"I feel I should remind you how long I’m capable of sitting in a bathtub for. You might be waiting a while."

"Rose," he laughed, "I really do not care about your weird longass baths, it’s not a big deal if I have to wait a bit for a shower! Heck, I could even skip it if you really take a long time. It doesn’t matter!"

She wrinkled her nose at that. “Doesn’t matter? In case you weren’t aware, John, people typically tend to enjoy your presence more when you bathe regularly.”

"Oh, my god Rose, skipping one shower will not just obliterate my personal hygiene from the face of the earth."

"Don’t be so sure," and Rose’s voice took an ominous tone. "One missed shower is the first step through the gateway of bad B.O, John. Would you be willing to take that risk?"

"Uh, maybe???" He tried to sound annoyed but she could hear the laugh under his words. "Seriously Rose, just because the rest of us don’t flop around in a bathtub for hours on end doesn’t mean we’re  _complete_  idiots when it comes to cleanliness.”

She pouted. “For the record, ‘flopping around in a bathtub’ is very relaxing. You should try it sometime.”

John scoffed. “Is that an invitation?”

She blinked. “… do you want it to be?”

"That’s…do I…" He blinked. "What?"

"You asked if I was inviting you to take a bath with me."

John opened and shut his mouth once. “I. Uh.”

"Were you?"

"Uh."

"Do you want to?"

"Uh."

"It’s okay if you don’t, I was just confused by your wording—."

"No, no, I want to!!"

Silence. Rose was suddenly startlingly aware of the sink faucet dripping. 

"…okay."

"Okay? Okay what?"

"Okay, let’s take a bath together." She shrugged.

"Oh."

"Wow, easy John, let’s dial down the enthusiasm a little."

"No, no, I am enthusiastic!" His face began to blotch pink around his cheekbones. "I mean— it’s a couple thing, right?"

"Last I checked," she murmured, walking over to the bathtub to turn on the water (conveniently hiding any blush that may or may not have crept to her cheeks). "Most cultures equate the combination of nudity and intimacy with romance, so I’ve heard."

"I. Oh. Right." John’s throat had twitched, swallowing something that wasn’t there. "Nudity. That makes sense. That’s a thing that happens during baths."

She shot him an exasperated look. “Are you SURE you want to do this?”

"Yes!!"

That had continued for a minute or so before lapsing into a shaky silence. Then the only thing they could do was stand around waiting for the tub to fill. Neither had made any move to shed their clothes, instead occasionally shooting glances at the other, as if waiting for the inevitable show of skin.

Maybe she should have thought this out a little more.

"Hey, Rose?" John’s voice carefully dragged her out of her thoughts. "I think it’s, uh, ready."


	2. Chapter 2

Sure enough, the water was almost at the bathtub’s rim. “That it is.” Rose leaned forward to turn off the faucet.

A foamy layer of bubbles (courtesy of one of Rose’s bathgels) topped the water, and even holding her hand above the surface she could tell it was pleasantly warm. In short, it looked perfect, and Rose wanted nothing more than to slide into the luxurious waters. However, they had still yet to tackle the obvious problem. “So.”

"So?" John responded. A moment later he got the picture: "Oh, right… uh, I guess I’ll get in first." His hands went to the hem of his shirt. "But could you maybe, um, turn around or something?"

"Of course," and she proceeded to do just that. She took the opportunity to light some of the candles she kept on the counter for just these occasions—they had the duel benefit of awarding her a handsome amount of "spooky goth" points and allowing the room a pleasant scent. As she snuffed the match she became aware of the rustlings of fabric, followed soon after by the sound of something slipping into the water.

For some reason, she found herself biting her lip.

"Ah, geez…" Forgetting herself, Rose turned at the sound of his voice.  John let out an almost inaudible squeak, pulling his hands halfway to his chest. Despite the thick quilt of pearly bubbles concealing his body below his sternum, his face suddenly flooded with a wave of pink.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing! I just…" His teeth worried at his bottom lip. "It was a little, um, smaller than I was expecting?"

Ah. She had foreseen that this may be an issue. John was broadly built and tall, much taller than her, and even on his own took up most of the bathtub. The way his shoulders hunched, he seemed slightly cramped in there— and was it her imagination, or did he look a little embarrassed?

In any case: “It’s fine. We’ll have plenty of room if you let me sit in your lap.”

"Yes. That we. Will have."

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him. “Are you okay with doing that?”

"Yeah, yeah, of course!" The pink tint in his cheeks had failed to fade. "It’s fine. I was just… you know, worried." And against all odds, a bit of a wry smirk found its way to his lips. "Because obviously you weigh like, a bazillion pounds."

"Ah, yes." She couldn’t help smiling in return. "Well rest assured, I’ll do my best to not reduce you to a bucktoothed pancake."

"Wow, thanks." But he laughed, and Rose’s heart lifted. If he was making jokes, chances were he was finally staring to relax. John coughed. "So, anyways, you should probably get in before the water gets cold."

"True." Her hands hesitated at the waistband of her skirt. "I won’t ask you to turn in your position, but if you could please…"

"Yeah, don’t sweat it!"

Rose waited until she was sure his eyes were shut clam-tight before she started undressing. She let her clothes lay where she dropped them, kicking her socks and shoes against the sink counter. For a moment she considered taking the effort to actually place her garments in the hamper, but quickly dispensed of the thought when she realized that might give him an opportunity to sneak a glance at her while her back was turned.

Which was stupid, really, because  _honestly Lalonde, do you really think_ John Egbert _would do something as crude as sink to the levels of a Peeping Tom? Yes, he’s a boy, but he’s also_ him _. By now wouldn’t you think he’s proven himself trustworthy? And anyways,_  her mind railed on against her skull as she stripped off her underthings,  _do you really think you’ve got that much worth looking at? Please, sweetheart, you’re about as erotic as a dead houseplant. I’d say don’t flatter yourself, but you might as well, considering you’re lacking in THAT department as-_

"Rose? You okay?" 

For the second time that night John’s voice tugged her back down to Earth. “What? Yes, yes, I’m fine, sorry, I just got a bit distracted.” Rose reached down to continue undressing, only to find there was nothing left to take off.

There was only one step left.

With a quiet inhale, Rose squared her shoulders. Slowly she made her way to the edge of the tub, perching carefully on the lip to peer down at John. His eyes were still shut, not so much abiding her request anymore so much as he was just… basking.

The look on his face caused an odd, pleasant twitch in her chest, something she might describe (but more likely deny) as a swell of affection. A fond smile perched on her lips, and with a sudden burst of determination, she swung her leg into the water, gently letting her foot plant itself on the tub’s bottom. Letting her breath out, Rose shifted.

 _Plunk_.

"… can I open my eyes now?" John spoke softly, but the nudge of his words so close to her cheek made her face go a little hot.

"You may."

His eyelashes skimmed the arch of her ear. There came a soft pause, fluffy and warm as the foam cupping her chest, and she could practically  _hear_  the grin in his breath. “Hey.”

Rose turned her head, just enough to let their eyes meet, and smiled. “Hi.”

For a moment or so they simply stayed like that, before John carefully brought his hands up, resting them on her hips. A blush, not entirely unwelcome, crept on ladybird legs up Rose’s cheeks.

"It smells nice." John's voice was careful, as if he was afraid too much noise would shatter the peaceful air. "Almost like Jane was baking in here."

"It’s green apple. I thought you might appreciate it." John snorted. Apples were something of a joke between them, a joke toeing the line of black humor- an apple was the shot that started a three-year long whirlwind of apocalypse and aliens and everything in between, after all. It was still something that summoned a lot of different feelings between them and their companions, not all of them pleasant _(most of them not pleasant)_.

But that was then, and this was now. This was his heart beating against her back, his quiet breath making the edges of her hair twitch, his scent (some parts sweat, some parts cornchip dust) all around her. And this was something she was very okay with.

Slowly, causally, John’s hands drifted up her body, his fingertips leaving little earthquakes of shivers in their wakes. But they slowed to a stop on her ribs, and she swore she felt his frown. 

"Hm," he said.

"Yes?" she answered, raising an eyebrow. She had a feeling she knew where this was heading.

"Oh, nothing! I was just wondering… if it’d be hypothetically possible to use you as a xylophone. Play Greensleeves or something. Plink," and he gently tapped his fingers between her ribs.

Rose just barely managed to resist a treacherous giggle. ”W-why do I feel like this is going to segue into yet another passive-aggressive prodding of my eating habits?”

"Hey, I didn’t say anything about that! Can’t a guy voice an innocent hypothetical about turning his girlfriend into a musical instrument?"

Rose made a face. “Maybe not, if you’re going to word it like some sort of Hitchcock-grade serial killer.”

"Oh. Well, my bad."

A silence.

"… buuuuuuuut, as long as you’re bringing it up," John raised his voice above Rose’s groan, "is your appetite okay?"

A coil of annoyance curled somewhere in Rose’s stomach, but she resisted the urge to spike her response with venom. “Yes, my appetite is okay. I’m getting three square meals a day. I have a healthy and regular caloric intake. I’m  _fine,_ John.”

"Okay, okay, that’s what I figured." He clicked his teeth sheepishly. "… sorry, that was kind of dickish of me."

"It’s alright."

"I dunno Rose, I just want you to be okay. I want you and Dave and Jade to be okay, and the Mayor, and the trolls, and Jane and her friends… I want us all to be okay."

Rose watched the ceiling for a moment, before resting her left hand on his. “I know.”

For a few minutes there was nothing but steam and silence. Rose closed her eyes, her world becoming water and foam, with a bit of boyfriend on the side. The sound of blood pulsing through her body swelled in the quiet, pounding in her ears, and it took her a moment to register that John was moving.

"So hey, what exactly are these things?"

John had reached for Rose’s box of bath beads, and was now gently squeezing one of the glossy spheres between his thumb and pointer finger. She couldn’t help but snicker at the look of mild rapture on his face. ”They’re bath beads— soap, basically. You put them in your bath and the outer shell dissolves.”

"And the soap just… goes into the water?"

"That’s the idea."

John was quiet a moment, rolling this new information around in his head. He scrutinized the little sphere, eyes so intense Rose felt near-concerned… before he made a face, flicking the bath bead into the tub. “Rose. That is so unbelievably silly and pointless and slightly dumb.”

Rose looked back at him, genuinely baffled. “What? What’s dumb about it?”

"You could just put regular soap in the water! What’s the point of stuffing it into these weird jelly-orbs and waiting for it to melt—you’re basically adding an extra and totally unnecessary step to the bathing experience!"

This time Rose did giggle. “Oh, my god. You’re genuinely upset about this, aren’t you?”

"I am!" He was dead serious.

Rose actually snorted. “You’re upset! You are so offended by the existence of these jelly-orbs, these poor, innocent, inanimate bath-things you didn’t even know existed until a few moments ago.”

"Bluh, come ON Rose, you know what I mean! I’m just saying, it’s dumb." He spread his hands in front of him. "You could be spending time enjoying your bath and your bubbles, but instead you’ve got to wait for the soap to get out of these stupid little balls! So. Dumb."

Rose tilted her head back, smiling mischievously at him. “Mr. Egbert seems to have a swath of strong opinions on the proper taking of baths.”

"Mr. Egbert would have to agree with you!"

A devilish grin sprang to her lips. “So he would ALSO agree that maybe he actually ENJOYS ‘flopping around in a bath?”

John froze. “I. That’s.”

"Yes?" She gave the sweetest smile she could muster.

"I…" He coughed and pulled back, turning away from her. "I plead the fifth."

Rose pouted, turning back to her original position. She sighed, a feigned defeat in her shoulders… and shifted her legs once, twice

 

 

and flipped herself to be facing John.

 

 

She never knew his eyes could grow that wide.

 

"Do you still plead the fifth?" she murmured, looking up at him from under her bangs.

"I." He could have been mistaken for a statue, for how still he was. "May. Be."

Rose huffed, rocking her hips slightly to be rewarded by a tremor through John’s thighs. “Be straight with me:” and she leaned in so her words were grazing his neck. “Are you actually enjoying this?”

That got him to look at her properly, an Egbertian Are-You-Kidding glance. “… yeah, of course.”

She sighed, folding her hands on her chest and resting her chin on them, gazing up into his eyes. “Just making certain.” His heartbeat was approaching hummingbird-speeds under her palms—she couldn’t really blame him. Being chest to chest was far more intimate than their original position… it was honestly getting to her as well.

The room suddenly felt slanted.

"Tell me. Tell me again." And suddenly, gently, she pressed a kiss to his sternum. "Do you like this?"

She could hear him swallow. “Y. Yeah. I do.”

Rose lifted her head, stretching to peck his throat. “And this…”

"I do." The dip of skin between his tendons twitched. "I like it."

She propped her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself to bring her face to his. “Tell me. Are you enjoying this? Do you want this?”

Their chests were pressed together, heartbeats hammering against their ribcages in a bizarre harmony. “More than anything,” he muttered hoarsely—his throat was dry.

"Tell me…" A playful smirk appeared on her face as she rocked her hips against his. "Tell me what is wrong with this picture."

His laugh was more groan than anything. “N-nothing, Rose… nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong with this at all.”

"Then tell me, John." And she pressed a long kiss to his yielding, melting mouth. "Tell me what you want. Tell me each and every last thing you want."

His eyes were screwed shut, tight, looking near-pain as he panted softly… and slowly they opened. The two of them locked gazes, John’s breath stuttering and heavy, her heartbeat so fast it almost ached.

"Rose…" His voice was scratchy, weak between his flushed lips. She had to lean close to hear. "R…Rose…

…do you…” His nose wrinkled. “Do you smell something?”

Rose stared at him… and her eyes drifted to the way his shadow danced erratically on the wall behind him. 

As if cast by a fire.

"… oh,  _fuck_.”

The two of them turned to the sink, and were granted precisely one and one half of a second to register the scene: the fallen candle, the carelessly tossed footwear, and the modestly large fire that had sprung from them.

It was then the smoke alarm went off.

* * *

 

_— turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] —_

TG: uh okay

TG: would you care to explain why the big bathroom smells like barbecued feet

TT: Number one: gross.

TT: Number two: why do you automatically presume that this concerns me?

TG: well gee i dunno rose

TG: maybe its because youre the one always dragging her old lady aromatherapy shit in there

TG: all those hoity toity candles with creepy names

TG: lascivious lime

TG: kitten tickles

TG: whats this one called

TG: deep fried gym class

TT: It wasn’t one of my candles.

TG: oh really

TT: There was

TT: an incident.

TG: an incident

TT: That certainly is a sardonic copy-paste of what I just typed.

TT: And if you’re foreseeable as you always are, chances are the follow-up will be:

TG: mind sharing what kind of incident

TT: Ding ding ding.

TT: I can’t tell you.

TG: cant

TG: or wont

TT: You wouldn’t be able to handle it.

TT: It’d be the straw that finally snaps the spine of the frazzled little camel that is your poor and shattered psyche.

TT: There’s many things I’ve subjected to you over the years, Dave, but even I have my limits. I refuse to have your blood gumming on my sad scarecrow fingers.

TG: were you smoking pot

TT: What?

TT: No.

TG: then tell me

TT: Fine. You REALLY want to know?

TT: John and I were taking a bath together,

TT: and things got

TT: too hot to handle.

TG: 

TG:

TG: haha very funny rose

TT: …

TG: yes wow way to go

TG: you totally convinced me that that’s actually a thing that happened and not something you made up to gross me out

TT: …

TG: yes yes haha please more silence crumbs how convincing youve completely pulled the wool over poor ol daves eyes

TG: hahaha

TG: haha

TG: ha

TT: :3

TG: oh my g

_— turntechGodhead [TG] threw his phone across the room —  _


End file.
